Guilt
by LionshadeSC
Summary: (spoilers for Railroad ending) (Female SS) After the attack on the Cambridge Police Station, Nick and Nora are with the other Railroad Agents, looting the building and readying for the attack on the Prydwen, but Nick notices something off about Nora when she stops to stare over a slain Scribe's body. Nick tries to reach out to his partner. Not romance, but can be seen as such.


Valentine breathed a sigh of built-up relief as the chaos of the fight died down; pieces of turrets littered the Cambridge police station as extra containers of ammo lay scattered around them.

Not to mention all the bodies.

The synth allowed his gaze to slide to the two Railroad agents who had accompanied both him and the Survivor. Tinker Tom and Deacon, not bad guys by Nick's book, were moving around the police station, claiming supplies and ammo or weapons that could be salvaged. They chatted between themselves, and other railroad agents with them, their voices cutting through the death-stone silence of the building.

Nick didn't join them. Almost on reflex, his mechanical yellow eyes searched the room swiftly for his companion. The Sole Survivor is what some were starting to call her around the Commonwealth, the only one to ever walk out of Vault 111 and live to tell the tale. She was called by many names by many people, but Nick was grateful to be someone who could call her by her name, Nora.

Nick wandered past the main lobby of the beaten-down police station to find Nora in the adjacent room to the left of the entrance, enacting the same as what the others were doing. . . looting and searching for supplies. The synth took a moment to study her features as she crouched over the corpses, taking what she could while a mask of stoicism held over her expression. Nick recognized this mask at once; it was one she wore often; it was the mask that would close over her face when it was life versus death and everything was on the line.

It was the mask she wore to block out the tragedies of the Commonwealth.

Wordlessly, Nick followed her as she moved to the back of the room, looting for important supplies. She grabbed every duct tape roll she came across, anything to work as an adhesive since they were so rare, and kept a special eye out for aluminum pieces.

After working through the back end of the police station, Nora turned, brushing past Nick wordlessly to make her way to the other side of the building. She kept her mask set in stone, and she didn't look at Nick as she passed him. The old synth couldn't help himself as questions began to burn through his mechanical mind, crawling questions about Nora's past, and not about before the war, but. . . before she had invited him to come along with her.

Nick followed her loyally, and kept his trap shut while his thoughts cycled through. _I wouldn't want to be rude, though. Her past is her own business; I shouldn't force her to talk about something she might not be ready or willing to talk about, yet._

Through Nick's tumultuous thoughts, he almost didn't notice when Nora stopped in the room she had just looted set to the left of the lobby, and the synth detective nearly bumped into her. He blinked her way, looking her up and down as she stood curiously over a specific body crumpled at her feet. Nick looked at it briefly, observing the outfit worn by Scribes of the Brotherhood. This scribe in particular was a woman, stripped of all identity like the others so Nick couldn't tell anything about her. She was just another nameless, dead face among the others. Nick stared more intensely at the scribe. Her eyes were open, unseeing, her mouth parted in an expression that reflected shock. Her cap over her head had tilted just slightly during the attack, revealing a few strands of dark blonde hair. Nick sobered his expression. Just another corpse.

He glanced at Nora curiously, sensing that this one was different. Nora wasn't looting the body or comparing armor pieces like Nick had seen her do before; she was simply standing over it, staring at the corpse.

Nick studied the Survivor silently, and he almost missed it when her mask slipped, emotions beginning to slide through and expose her inner thoughts. The synth processed them as they formed over her features; grief, anguish, defeat. . . guilt.

Something in the old synth ached; he couldn't bear to see her look like that. In a careful voice, he called out to her, "Hey, kid, you okay?"

Nora didn't respond; she didn't even look his way. An emotion akin to worry fluttered in Nick's gears, and he studied her movements anxiously.

She knelt down to the body she stood over, reached up, and closed it's eyes. She held that position, crouched over and oozing solemnity. Nick approached her cautiously until he stood next to his companion, and he deemed it appropriate to holster his weapon as he placed a gentle hand on Nora's shoulder.

At his cold metal touch, she started away from him, and looked up with wide and glimmering eyes. Embarrassment flashed through Nick ( _ _of course she doesn't want me touching her; she doesn't want a cold robotic hand all over her)__ and he moved his hand back to his side respectfully. He had trouble with his voice as he asked, "Did you, uh, know this person?"

His question earned him a revealing expression as her eyes closed like blinds on a window as she looked away from him. _Ah,_ Nick gathered from that alone, _she did_.

In one swift movement, Nora stood back to her full height and pulled the red bandanna that hung around her neck back over her nose to hide her expression. Nick had trouble seeing her eyes through her patrolman's glasses as she answered cryptically, her voice lowered, "What does it matter? It's just another person in the Brotherhood that needed to be taken out, right?" Nick's eyebrows twitched into the barest form of a frown at her words. She went on, "Another pawn in this game that needed to be eliminated so the king can be put in check." Nora laughed dryly, and she began to tremble as she crossed her arms over her chest defensively. She coughed out in a voice that was growing more and more distant, "Does it really matter anymore?"

Nick allowed the frown to carve out his features, and though he didn't like what Nora was saying, he wouldn't hold it against her. It was obvious she was having a bit of a bad time right now. What he didn't like even more, however, was how her breathing was starting to quicken, changing from their usual calm, deep tones into quick and rasping gasps for air. Now, Nick wasn't human, and he knew he wasn't, but it was pretty common knowledge that hyperventilating was usually a bad sign for these organic species.

"I mean-" she rambled on, "all of this is so pointless! All this death leading to more death, nothing really matters, it's all going to fall apart anyway; everything just falling in on itself, leading to more and more destruction-" Nora's hands on her arms clenched tightly, and her voice was raising in pitch, growing more and more hysterical as she struggled to breathe through her panting words. Nick watched. Her entire body was beginning to tremble.

Not to mention that her pulse was skyrocketing, yet all of the blood looked like it was draining from her face. Nick narrowed his eyes at her; her vitals were jumping all over the place, and as the Survivor suddenly clenched a hand over her stomach like she was going to be sick, Nick knew what was going on.

She was having a panic attack.

The synth moved towards her at once. He wrapped his arm around her back to grab her shoulder, and his other hand grasped her arm as he steered her away from the other agents and the bodies to a more isolated part of the building. Thankfully, Nora voiced no protests as she allowed her feet to stumble along with him.

The jail cells were small, secluded, and blessedly devoid of any corpses. Nick kicked the door shut with his foot for some privacy, and he led the Survivor to the jail cell in the farthest corner. He sat both of them down on the bed, and moved with deft fingers as he took away the bandanna covering her mouth to help her breathe, and grasped his hands over her arms below her shoulders. "Stay with me, sweetheart. It's okay. Everything is okay. We're going to be okay. _ _Breathe__. Please."

Her arms trembled, and she didn't look at him, giving him no inclination she could hear his pleading words. She must have, though, because her breaths began to slow, though the tremor refused to leave her body. Something clenched in Nick's chest that he didn't recognize, and his hands held onto her arms even more securely.

"Look around at where we are, sweetheart," he urged with a soft and reassuring tone, and the old synth was surprised at the affectionate term that slipped again into his sentence without realizing it, but he forced himself to ignore it for now. All he could focus on was Nora, who's eyes flickered around the small room she was in. "We're in this room, just us, no one else," he continued gently. "We're okay; we're alive. You're going to make it through this." Her eyes landed on a window against one of the walls for the longest amount of time, but then she looked back into her lap, and her breathing began to even out. Nick felt a deep wave of relief. He breathed with her, and he allowed his metal hand to slide back into position at his side, though he kept his human-hand along her shoulder.

He waited patiently for her to regain her bearings, and as she did, she pulled her knees up to her chest for some sense of closeness and safety. Nick studied her, locking eyes as she murmured, "Thank you, Nick."

"No problem, sweetheart." He moved on the bed, shifting his weight so he could dig into his coat pocket and pull out a cigarette from it's pack to place in his mouth. With practiced movements, he grabbed his lighter from his other pocket, flicking the tab. He hunched over the lighter, shielding the flame with a cupped palm as he held the flicker of light to the stub, "Don't let the Commonwealth get to ya," he tried to reassure, the cigarette moving oddly in his mouth as he tried to talk without removing it. Once the cig caught, the synth leaned back and snapped the lighter closed. He held the cigarette between his fingers, taking the time to inhale deeply before letting it out slowly as he enjoyed the feeling of the hot smoke coursing against his sensors.

Now comfortable, Nick looked to Nora, who had not yet moved from her curled up position on the bed. Her eyes were distant, staring at Nick but not really seeing him. Her entire body was still, as if moving in the slightest way would expose her to whatever nightmare had invaded her mind. Shifting his gaze away from her, Nick held the cigarette loosely between his lips, bringing up his hand to take another deep inhale of the smoke as he held it in place. His mechanical lungs processed and released the smoke back out on the exhale, and Nick forced himself to speak. "You wanna tell me what happened in there?" He kept a casual air to his tone, and when he saw how Nora's eyes darkened, he quickly accommodated, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to; I'm not going to force you to reveal the skeletons in your closet if you're not ready to." __Wait, well, I don't want her to think she__ has _ _to tell me, not now or ever if she doesn't want to.__

Nora stared at him, and the synth found himself rambling like a flustered child, "I mean, you never have to tell me; I'm not going to hold it against you or anythin-"

"It's not that, Nick," she interrupted. At the sound of her voice, he stopped, and turned his head to gaze at her silently. Nora lowered her head so her chin rested on her knee, and her eyes grew hazy again as she spoke softly. "You. . . You're one of the only people I trust out here, Nick." He blinked at her, and opened his mouth to chide that he wasn't _ _technically__ a person, but she plowed on, "You've always been someone I can trust, because I know you always act out of the good for the Commonwealth, and not for your own interests. You're almost my moral compass out here," Nora laughed dryly, her breath hitching. The private eye felt something in the depths of his mechanics tremble when he saw a glimmer forming in her eyes. The Survivor went on, "You're really my closest friend, and I _want_ to be able to talk to you about the skeletons in my closet."

Nick didn't voice any comments from her admission, choosing instead to remain silent so she could collect her thoughts. From where she sat, Nora shifted her weight, and cast her eyes down guiltily. She heaved in a heavy breath, and released it as the confession sighed from her, "I. . . was a knight of the Brotherhood." Nora grimaced, her lips turned down so they formed a frown, and she blinked from the tears sitting at the edge of her eyelids. "I've been on good terms with them for the longest while, even before I got to Diamond City. I fought alongside them, earned my place among them, and was loyal to their every beck and call. I didn't even think about what they believed in when I joined; they were just so appealing! Everything they offered, not just the power armor, but the companionship and brotherhood that came with it, like having a family, someone to fall back onto when you were in trouble." Nora gnawed at her bottom lip, something Nick had noticed she did when she was nervous or anxious. Recently, they had been chewed down to raw and sensitive flesh that sometimes even bled when she was especially troubled. Guess this was one of those times.

Again, Nick found satisfaction in not saying anything, and simply allowed Nora to continue speaking. He sensed that this confession was something she needed, something to get off her chest. Respectfully, he maintained eye contact with her, even when she looked away as her face burned deep red. Her hands knotted together in front of her anxiously. It was like she was waiting for him. He heaved in a breath, "So what happened in the other room just now. . ." His voice trailed off, allowing her to pick it up.

Nora nodded, and she ran a hand through her knotted hair. "Yes. The scribe I was standing over. . . Haylen. I knew her." If it was even possible, Nora's expression sobered even more. "I worked with her, did jobs for her. She knew that I would have a rough time being a new recruit to the brotherhood, but. . . she never lost faith in me, even when others in the Brotherhood didn't trust me." Nora grabbed both sides of her scalp with her hands, digging into her hair and gripping it like it was a lifeline. "Haylen was the closest thing to a friend that I had in the Brotherhood, the only one who trusted me despite all the negativity around me and all the people who didn't trust me." Nick took note of the tears that finally fell past Nora's eyelids. The woman cupped a hand over her mouth, and began to sob with heaving, gasping breaths.

"Now she's dead," she managed to get out, her words hitching. "Scribe Haylen, probably never harmed so much as a bloodbug, dead now because of me. All because of me. I got an innocent person killed-" Nora clenched her legs as close to her as she possibly could for more security, "and the worst part is," she lowered her trembling voice, "I don't even know if it was me that killed her. During the fight, I didn't pay attention to who I was fighting- who I was _ _killing__ \- and now Haylen is dead, oh _ _god,__ Nick." Her voice edged a point of near hysteria. The synth watched as her eyes trembled, and she covered them with her hand. "I'm going to hell in a hand-basket. I'm the worst type of person there is, a dirty, back-stabbing, friend-killing-"

Nick felt compelled by. . . he didn't even know what, but as Nora began to crumble, he moved forward to wrap his arms around her form, bringing her close so she could huddle against his chest. The Sole Survivor sobbed against him, releasing the built-up tension that had been building in her from the beginning. "I'm sorry, Nick. I'm so sorry."

"For what, kid?" he asked, finding his tone had kept still and soft.

Her words pierced him. "For not being the type of friend you can be proud of."

His metal hand that had been brushing up and down her back stilled. He pulled her a little tighter against him, and found himself burying his nose into the depths of her soft and tangled hair. "You have nothing to say sorry for, doll. There was nothing you could have done to avoid this."

She released another shuddering breath, "I could have done something though; I should have tried harder, should have kept the peace better." She sighed against him, "So much death, Nick. And there's only going to be more." Her form curled tighter against him, "All because of me."

Nick opened and closed his hands against her back, but didn't move his arms away from her. "I'm sorry for not telling you sooner," she whispered.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he asked quietly.

She curled tighter into herself, "I was afraid. . . _have_ been afraid, of you being angry at me for being part of the Brotherhood. I didn't know how you would react, if-if you," her voice lowered, "didn't want to travel with me anymore."

Nick sighed against her, keeping his embrace around Nora tight. He would be lying, of course, if he couldn't admit to himself that he _did_ feel a swoop of betrayal by this revelation. Nearly everyone knew the Brotherhood and what they stood for, especially on Synth Issues, and it shocked the old detective that Nora of all people would willingly join such a cause.

But such thoughts were unfair to her, and unjustified. He could understand how she must have felt emerging into this war-ridden wasteland, condemned to fighting the rest of her life for things to keep her alive like food and safety; a faction of well-endowed, well-supplied humans probably carried a huge appeal to her, while also providing her with close-knit brothers of war, regardless of their political stances.

She was shivering against him, and Nick found his hand moving up to her head as he ran his cold metal fingers through her hair. "You were alone," he murmured above her. Her breathing suddenly grew quiet at the sound of his voice. The old detective continued combing his metallic hand against her head, the soft tresses falling over the skeletal frame. The movement itself brought comfort to both of them, and Nora relaxed against him. Nick felt words continue to whisper out, "You were 200 years out of time; your husband dead, your son missing, everyone else you knew was gone. Why _wouldn't_ you sign up for the Brotherhood? They had everything you needed- companionship. The dangers meant nothing as long as you could have someone with you."

Nick pressed his mouth against the crown of her head. "I don't blame you for wanting to feel safe, Nora," he whispered, "for wanting to have someone there with you, especially when it feels like the world is crumbling beneath you." She released a shuddering breath against him, a cleansing breath, and Nick frowned. "I could never blame you, sweetheart."

He could feel the tension slowly release from her body as she began to relax against him, and Nick felt a flicker of shock and confusion when she wrapped her own arms around his waist and buried her nose into his chest. She inhaled deeply, a content sigh escaping her as she murmured out quiet words.

"Thank you, Nick."

The old bot felt something clench again in his chest (it had to be a faulty wire, nothing else), and managed to choke out. "It's no problem, Nora."

Her voice sounded small. "Do you still want to travel with me?"

Nick's hands tightened against the small of her back and the top of her head. He pressed a chaste kiss into her hair, and murmured softly-

"More than anything."


End file.
